


coming home to you

by TheBizarreHairTrio



Series: Firestorm Week 2020 [6]
Category: The Lobby
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Firestorm Week, Firestorm Week 2020, Light Angst, Not Beta Read, Other, Pre-Canon, and how ironically the pure one's grab for power turning them all into humans, because i think about that all the time, ending up saving their relationship in the end, you ever think about how judas and gerard's relationship was falling apart pre canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:42:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27586948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBizarreHairTrio/pseuds/TheBizarreHairTrio
Summary: Firestorm Week 2020: Day Six - Coming Back
Relationships: Judas/Gerard (The Lobby)
Series: Firestorm Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2008498
Kudos: 1





	coming home to you

**Author's Note:**

> CHOCK FULL OF HEADCANONS SEE IF YOU CAN SPOT THEM

The storm never lingers. It drifts, flitting from place to place, and it never stays anchored to a single place forever.

They say you can’t chain the wind, can’t bottle the lightning. It comes and goes, and nothing you do can change that fact of nature. 

_ Why love someone who never stays?  _ asks she who is time, forever in love with eternities and permanence. Her judging eyes bore into he who is yearning, and he smiles, helpless and sad.

_ I am yearning,  _ he who is yearning replies, both an answer and not one. 

(“i am yearning,” says gerard, bleeding color and dripping daydreams. “it is my nature”

he sits, waiting and waiting, and runo shakes her head, crumbling fingers curled around her mug

she doesn’t say anything in reply. she doesn’t need to)

There’s a torch at his door, burning endlessly. And he who is yearning will love forever, will yearn for his spouse forever, but even his fire can burn low, simmering embers. The torch reflects that, dimming when his love simmers down, burning higher when his longing peaks. 

He who is yearning sits in his dwelling, longing for lightning and rain and violent winds to plague his lands again. 

(is it self destructive to wish for disaster to strike, if only to see your love again? is it self detrimental to long for calamity and catastrophe, if only because it heralds the coming of the one you love?

this love is pain and ruinous but gerard can’t stop, not when it feels so right, even despite the strain and the absence and the warnings of his friends who caution him against giving everything to someone who will only take and take and leave again without a glance backwards

it’s too late anyways because judas has already taken his heart so long ago)

It’s the perpetual stage of initial lovestruckness, of infatuation and everything that comes with it. He who is yearning can’t shake this love, can’t fall out of it. It may dim, it may dwindle, but it will never disappear.

It’s his nature to wait forever, to yearn forever. 

_ But it isn’t theirs,  _ murmurs he who is night, features shifting every moment.  _ You may not ever lose this love for them, but the same cannot be said for them,  _ he warns he who is yearning, indistinct mouth pressed in a line. 

(“why love them?” asks noah of his brother, dark fog of his figure darkening further. the shadows stretch. “why love them when they won’t return to you one day?”

“they will return,” says gerard, flames intertwining with his brother’s shadows. i am reunion too, he doesn’t say

it’s our destiny to see each other again)

* * *

The fire lights their way as they flit into the dwelling, chains clinking and lightning sparking with every movement. There’s no path that can be seen, but they walk a road they know only from experience and fond memories.

There’s a torch at the entrance, burning merrily. The flame is smaller than they remember, and something inside them twists, goes quiet. There’s a sad, longing whistle on the wind.

They wonder if this is how he feels when they’re gone. 

They ease their way inside, slipping across the threshold with nary a whisper. The candles lining the hall flicker on in an instant, and they flex their fingers of storm and chaos, solidifying their form. The crackle of flames announces his arrival, and a choked off sob announces his spotting of them. They turn.

“I’m home,” says Judas, soft and sad. 

“Welcome home,” whispers Gerard, delight in every flicker of his figure.

(for the first time in centuries, the storm and the fire are intertwined)


End file.
